


Partners in Crime

by srmarybadass



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Pike/Lynch, snark, tie-yanking, desk!sex, some d/s, knifeplay, Lynch reluctantly enjoying himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners in Crime

"Hello, handsome."

"Jesus, Pike!" Lynch jumped slightly in his seat and looked up from the piles of paper he was sorting through. "What the fuck are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Europe or something!"

Pike shrugged. "I got bored. Figured I'd come see my favorite partner in crime." He glanced around the office. "Nice place you got here."

"If anyone _ever_ saw us together-"

"Jeez, would you calm down? You think I'm stupid enough to let someone _see_ me come in here?"

"How the hell did you get in here, anyway?"

"I thought that the CIA headquarters would have better security. I'm actually rather disappointed."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't show up at two in the morning," Lynch grumbled, standing up from his rolling chair. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours and was currently running on coffee and aggravation. Pike showing up unexpectedly and highly illegally was, quite literally, the last thing he needed.

"Oh, stuff it. I didn't cross an ocean and several legal lines just to hear you bitch at me. If I wanted that, I would have gotten married."

Lynch rolled his eyes. "What do you _want_ , Pike?"

The mercenary reached back and locked the door. "Oh, I think you know." With that, he crossed the room, grabbed Lynch by the -- expensive -- tie and pulled him flush against his body, kissing him roughly. Lynch hauled off and whacked him in the jaw, surprisingly hard for a desk guy.

Pike let go, shaking his head slightly to clear the ringing. Then he grinned.

"Do that again."

Lynch complied, throwing most of his weight behind the punch. Pike took it and grinned, grabbing Lynch by the tie again. This time, Lynch responded more positively -- but no less enthusiastically -- to the kiss. Lynch gasped when Pike nipped at his lower lip, none-too-gently, before sweeping his tongue into Lynch's mouth, instantly claiming domination, hands still tangled in his tie. He pressed forward, causing Lynch to back up until he hit the desk.

"I'm not a chick, you know," Lynch complained, even as he ran his hands under Pike's shirt and up his broad, muscular back.

"Of course you aren't, sweetheart," Pike replied, and Lynch could feel his smug grin as he sucked marks into Lynch's throat while his hands worked to undo the agent's belt. "After all, you've apparently got a dick."

"You _are_ a dick," Lynch grumbled.

"You love it, baby."

Lynch wasn't sure about that, but his body was definitely enjoying the proceedings, much to his annoyance. 

Right after Pike managed to undo his belt, he took his hands away, and Lynch made a noise halfway between a _harrumph_ and a groan. Pike reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open. It glinted in the light. Lynch froze for one moment, but instead of catching him off-guard with an awesome makeout session and then stabbing him, Pike used it to slice Lynch's shirt off him.

"Hey!" Lynch protested. "First you wreck my tie, then you completely ruin my shirt? You had better buy me a new one."

"Bitch bitch bitch, that's all it is with you," Pike sighed. "Look, if you just shut up and let me fuck you, I'll buy you a new shirt, okay? And a tie."

Lynch gulped, but kept his voice steady. "Deal."

"Good." With that, Pike divested him of his pants and stripped off his own shirt, revealing a hard-worked torso covered in scars. Lynch blinked and, unable to help himself, ran his palms across it, feeling the raised lines under his fingers.

"Battle wounds, babe," Pike growled by way of explanation, going back to kissing him and groaning when Lynch dug his nails in. "Ahh- like to give it, like to get it, do you?"

Lynch smirked and twisted, opening his bottom desk drawer which contained, among other things, a bottle of lube for what he liked to refer to as "workplace emergencies." He was pretty sure this qualified. Pike took it and snorted, amused.

"Strawberry scented? You're kinkier than I thought."

"I'm full of surprises."

"I'll say," Pike agreed, suddenly using his considerable strength and speed to flip Lynch over, bending him across his own desk, causing papers to scatter everywhere.

"Do you- have any idea- how long it took to sort those?" Lynch said through gritted teeth as Pike slipped one slick -- and strawberry-scented! -- finger inside him.

"Should've thought of that before you agreed to this," Pike replied, shrugging. Lynch rolled his eyes and winced as Pike added another finger, hissing slightly.

"What? Can't handle it?"

"Of course I can handle it, douchebag," Lynch informed him. "Just haven't done it in awhile. Believe it or not, I'm not a total slut."

"Really? I would have thought you were even more of a bottom than that pretty-boy of Smith's," Pike told him.

"Oh my _god_ , seriously?" Lynch sighed. "Bringing up work right _now?_ Do you have any idea how much of a boner-kill that is?"

Pike reached around and grabbed Lynch's dick. "Doesn't seem to have hurt you any." Lynch rolled his hips, and Pike took that as a sign of readiness, because he removed his hands, grabbed Lynch's hips, and pushed himself inside. Lynch groaned, resting his head on his forearms as he adjusted to the sensation. 

"You all right there, honey?" Pike asked, a thread of concern in his flippant tone.

"If you don't move faster," Lynch informed him. "I am going to kill you."

"As long as you don't file for divorce," Pike replied, complying with Lynch's request. He began thrusting, surprisingly gently at first, but slowly becoming rougher. Lynch gripped the edge of the desk, white-knuckled, as Pike's powerful hips drove him in faster. He bit his lip in an effort to silence the noises that threatened to burst from his throat -- no reason to inflate Pike's ego even further. But evidently, Pike could read body language, because he slipped one hand around and started to stroke Lynch's cock in the same rhythm he was riding his ass with. The desk, not used to such abuse, moved forward several inches, but Lynch neither noticed nor cared. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, he reached behind him and blindly grabbed the back of Pike's neck, silently urging him closer, harder, faster, and Pike did exactly that, all while trailing gently kisses and rough nips up and down Lynch's neck.

"That's it, babe," Pike murmured. "Show me how much you love me."

There might have been a dose of sarcasm in there, and normally Lynch would be able to come up with a snappy retort, but being fucked in his office by a world-class criminal wasn't really his definition of "normal." So instead, he came with a choked cry, spattering his desk. Almost before he recovered, Pike followed, biting down on Lynch's shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Better clean your desk before the janitors show up," Pike commented a few minutes later, as they were redressing.

"Fuck you," Lynch replied, without much venom.

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," Pike smiled. He looked at his watch. "I've gotta go -- important, ah, appointment to keep."

Lynch rolled his eyes. "Nice way to treat your wife."

Pike grinned, kissing him one last time and slipping something into his pocket. "See you later...wifey." With that, he was out the door, and Lynch was left staring at a very messy desk and wondering how he was going to get home without a shirt. Shrugging, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Wondering what it was -- earpiece for communication? tracking device? engraved bullet? -- he opened it, and his jaw dropped before clicking shut. He sighed.

Pike had given him a fucking _wedding ring._

Next time he saw the stupid, smug, sexy bastard, he was going to punch him in his stupid, smug, sexy face. Again.


End file.
